Darling one - LOVED your words. I read them now, end of day, the house empty but for my incongruous flat mate, in between lives of lover and ex’s,who sits and checks facebook, tells me it's cold outside, while I busy around, washing up, hovering, walking dog. Giggled like a school girl, with the ego on… Continue reading Post Bob’s funeral to Louise
Eve of Bob’s funeral
The eve of Bobs send of, the clan of diverse friends are gathering. We put into the table our stories, most often the first meeting. Ruth when she was 25, could not box him. Sarah told a story of Bob being flustered, afraid, but he was never afraid she concluded. Yes, says Louise, he was… Continue reading Eve of Bob’s funeral
Bob and Toby – desire to change (Feb 2016)
An email from Louise, starkly honest, declaring those moments when she wanted to change Toby into something different, healthy, longer lasting. Doing housework, she’s come across Toby’s olives in the fridge. “…All dried up - god he knew how to cook - anyway suddenly I was filled with this enormous feeling of elation and gratitude. Puzzled, I went… Continue reading Bob and Toby – desire to change (Feb 2016)
Bob -and friendships (Feb 2016)
He was like my Gabrial Oak, one I was returning to after all. My last memories are of kindness (when not being bossy) and tenderness. It could so easily have not been the case. Oh we’d had had our battles, never lasting long, and more spatty than aggressive, I wanting to change him, away from… Continue reading Bob -and friendships (Feb 2016)
Bob on the Fridge
Housework works. Cathartic and wholesome. I found BOB LOVES RACHEL AND KALI in fridge magnets on my fridge. How had I not noticed it? When he did it the week before. Indeed there is much I didn't notice In the most mundane of moments memories arrive. Filling up with petrol, Bob always knew the price… Continue reading Bob on the Fridge
Bob – Writing
Saturday, writing with Dean and Michael. What luxury to have this space in which to find the words to describe this time. I have not found it since. Trust in Dean and Michael, happy to be amongst strangers. What a marvellous pursuit to wail out loud (like they do in Iran full body, full black) and… Continue reading Bob – Writing
Bob and logs
‘What's the purpose?’ Bob used to ask of me writing my diaries, a non rhetorical and open question. He had the knack of asking the important questions. I didn't know the answer, but kept the question as I wrote on through the years. He modernised the name and called them logs.Now they are called blogs,… Continue reading Bob and logs
Shoes
There they were: Black, leather, Eco – You always bought Eco – On the kitchen floor While you were not. Oddly empty, with your feet so particular: flat footed, broad based, carrying your bow legs belly, and that great head with shock of hair. Pigeon toed, uneven, Yet determined, even angry, gait increasingly unsteady, Burdened. In… Continue reading Shoes
Bob
‘Hi Bob’ The gardener, who’d I’d never met said: ‘No it’s not Bob, it’s Steve the gardener. I’ve got some sad news.’ Wednesday. Expecting Bob to arrive the next day for Book Club and to stay a few days. I saw Bob’s call come through earlier in the day, but did not have time to… Continue reading Bob
Death and art of dying of David Bowie (Jan 2016)
Extraordinary. He did this. Showed there was another way. Outside a box. Reading the words to Changes again - or did i ever read them back then - he touches on universals then, Buddhist ones, transitory natures, etc. The Man who fell to Earth - at the Cut - good old Cut for screening it.… Continue reading Death and art of dying of David Bowie (Jan 2016)
Kalikellett 